Always
by Juri Sensei
Summary: Pitch would never say it out loud, but his feelings for Jack ran deep. A short ficlet in which Pitch shows a softer side and Jack is a sleepy mess. *This is a m/m fic, with a reference to naughty things happening before the story. Nothing explicit here, sorry kiddos.*


**AN: AYO MY HOMIES So this little thing popped into my head after I watched season 3 of GoT (completely unrelated things, I'm not sure how it happened). It's short and sweet because I'm really out of practice ugh. I was aiming for fluff but I'm just not good at sappy/happy stuff. Edited very poorly by myself because it's 5am, I wrote this on my phone and I'm emotionally scarred from GoT forever. Please let me know what you think of this, constructive criticism is my life. Enjoy!**

His skin glowed in the darkness, a sliver of moon beam to light the gloom of his bed chambers. Pitch watched as his companion breathed deeply in his sleep, a slow and steady rhythm that lulled Pitch into a state of meditation. He could sit there and watch Jack sleep for hours. Pitch rested his head on his hand and observed every detail of the sleeping body before him.

Jack rarely stayed after they made love. His paranoia was too great to allow him to settle down to sleep. Jack's visits - while steadily increasing in frequency - happened far less often than Pitch would have liked. It was a bit upsetting knowing that Jack was ashamed of him, but it wasn't as if Pitch could change who he was, or what he had done. He was the Boogeyman, after all. Pitch couldn't and wouldn't change that.

He watched as Jack rolled over in his sleep, arm outstretched as if reaching for something. A frown marred his sleeping face as his hand came down onto the empty sheets. Pitch smiled softly at Jack's appearance. His pure white hair was tousled, sticking out in every direction. There was a noticeable path of dried drool on his chin, something that Pitch would never admit aloud to find endearing. His long lashes fluttered against his cheek, as if Jack was looking for something in his dreams.

Pitch wanted to consume him. He wanted to wrap Jack up in shadows and devour him, so that he could never leave and Pitch would never have to share him with the world.

Jack made a noise of distress in his throat, opening his eyes and pinning Pitch with his sleepy stare. His eyes were a darker blue than usual, darkened with sleep and something that Pitch couldn't identify. Slowly, he lifted the covers, exposing more of his flawless pale skin.

"Come back to bed," Jack breathed. His voice was so soft that Pitch could hardly hear it. Pitch slid underneath the covers without hesitation, curving his body to fit the shape of his lover. Jack's cool soft skin slid against Pitch as he shifted closer, trying to press as much of himself against the Nightmare King as possible.

For once, Jack didn't care about being a Guardian, he didn't care about who Pitch was. All that Jack wanted was post-sex cuddling time with the man who unknowingly held his heart. Once Jack felt that he was as close to Pitch as physically possible, he sighed in content. Pitch, for all of his flaws, was a great person to spoon with. Jack could feel his warm skin pressed against Jack's entire body, how the unyielding muscles underneath stretched against Jack's back to fit against him better.

A wisp of arousal unfurled deep in Jack's belly, but he ignored it. He was just too tired to act on it. As Jack's eyes slowly shut, Pitch decided to lightly run his fingers through Jack's hair. When fingernails lightly scratched scalp, Jack let out a noise of content. Even after all this time, Jack still craved attention, still craved touch. And he'd be lying if he said that he didn't crave Pitch's touch constantly.

Pitch just watched the snow spirit slowly fall back asleep, the edge of a smile on his face. He ran his hands through the silk strands, keeping a steady rhythm going until Jack's light snores were sounding throughout the room. He wished it could be like this every night. When Jack wasn't here, his heart ached and his arms felt unbearably empty. Pitch suspected that Jack felt the same, if the increased number of visits were anything to go by.

But no matter. Pitch would take what he could get. He slowly pressed his face against Jack's hair, inhaling the crisp scent of what could only be described as winter, and smiled. Despite the secrecy, Jack was undeniably his. Nothing could take that away from him. With that thought, he wrapped his arm tighter against Jack and closed his eyes. When morning came, his lover would be frantic and rush off into the wind, carried far away from here. He would spread mischief and fun to children everywhere. He would talk to other good spirits and laugh and sparkle in the sunlight. He would be free. But he would be back.

Jack always came back for Pitch.


End file.
